


Sleepover

by mylifeinshadow



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s06e03 Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:43:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeinshadow/pseuds/mylifeinshadow
Summary: Upon waking up in the hospital, Mulder is convinced he and Scully are having a slumber party.Based on a post by incorrectxfiles on Tumblr.





	1. Truth or Dare?

It's several hours before he comes around again, the pain medication working it's magic. In spite of his drug induced love confession, you found yourself back by his bedside moments later. A glutton for punishment, you suppose.

His eyes blink open slowly and, upon noticing you, he gives you the most heart stopping grin. The corner of your lips quirk upward as a reflex. 

"Welcome back," you tease, as his eyes slip shut blissfully - not sleeping, just savoring the moment.

"I love sleepovers," he slurs, and this time you can't help but laugh.

"This isn't a sleepover. You're in the hospital."

A shadow of confusion passes over his face as he looks down at his attire. The confusion quickly gives way to a smug grin as he lifts the sheet off of his body.

"Then why do I have this nightgown?"

"That's a hospital gown."

He nods sagely, and assuming he finally understands, you begin to relax. Nevertheless, he persists.

"Truth or dare?"

Your eyes meet, yours full of exasperation, his full of expectation. It's a battle of wills. One you're quickly losing. He's just so loopy, so expectant. So damn adorable like this. You sigh; resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Dare."


	2. Chapter 2

"I dare you to get up here and lay with me. It’s not a sleepover if you’re not laying down.”

This time, you actually do roll your eyes. As charming as he may be when heavily medicated, you’re not prepared for how much it messes with your head. He’s the picture of innocence though - blissfully unaware of the rising of your blood pressure, 

“It’s not a sleepover at all,” you argue, but he pays no mind, chewing his luscious lower lip thoughtfully. 

“Do you want to talk about boys?”

“Mulder…”

“Come on, Scully,” he pleads, and as always, you are powerless to resist. “I dared you.”

Never one to back down from a dare, you concede, your back protesting the several hours you’ve spent hunched over. You reluctantly lay down beside him, over the sheets, hands resting over your belly. 

“Aren’t you gonna ask me?”

He has the nerve to look frustrated with you, and you bite the inside of your cheek to hold back the laughter that’s bubbling up.

“Ask you what?”

You try your hand at playing dumb, and from the over exaggerated sigh that leaves his lips, you can tell that his intoxicated mind hasn’t caught on.

“I dared you, now it’s your turn.”

“Truth or dare,” you sigh, obviously unamused. 

“Truth. I love you.”

His speech is so slurred, it might as well have all been one word. Your mind and your body are instantly at odds. Rationally, you’re aware that he is absolutely stoned out of his mind. But it doesn’t stop your heart from jumping into your throat. You’re left scrambling for the right words to say, but all that comes out is a squeak - something you hope he doesn’t notice. But by the way her turns to you and grins, no such luck. You’re floundering and you know it. He knows it. You desperately grasp for control. 

“First of all, that’s not how the game works.”

You feel him chuckling beside you more than you hear it, and you resist the urge to give him a whack. 

“Second,” you continue, your inflection making your annoyance evident. He simply grins. Deciding two can play this game, you lean into him, your lips mere inches away from his.

“I really need to talk to your nurse about that morphine drip.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! This is my first multi chapter fic, as short as it is. Still, kind of a big deal to me. I really appreciate all of the love and support I've received from everyone. Hope you enjoy the ending. :)

Suddenly, it’s like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. You can feel the tension; feel all of his humor fading. The change is palpable. His eyes meet yours, just as glazed as before, but without a trace of laughter. That teasing grin has morphed into a pout, and he looks for all the world like a puppy who was just told no.

“S'not the drugs,” he argues, and you arch an eyebrow. “Okay, it’s a little bit the drugs,” he concedes, and you can’t help but laugh despite your hearts attempt to beat right out of your chest and straight into the safety of his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

The universe has one hell of a sense of humor, you have to admit. The words that you didn’t even realize you’ve been longing to hear within your reach, but he’s a far cry from sober. You’d laugh if it weren’t so damn painful. Instead, you do what you do best. You deflect.

“I bet you say that to every girl that saves your ass.”

He laughs at that, and the sound is so contagious that you can’t help but grin back at him. Not for the first time, you thank God it’s the middle of the night and Skinner is long gone. You can’t imagine that the two of you in bed together grinning at each other like a couple of idiots would be well received.

“Just the one that made a career out of it,” he argues, his sincerity making your gut all but explode in butterflies. It’s ridiculous, you think, that he has this effect on you even in this state.

As if that’s not bad enough, he shifts in the small confinement of the hospital bed, resting his hand on top of your own. For a moment, you feel relief, the drooping of his eyes leading you to believe he’d be back asleep in minutes, if not seconds.

No such luck.

“Truth or dare,” he asks again, just as you thought maybe he’d moved on from this game.

There’s no hesitation this time when you choose dare. You’ve given up on trying to steer his mind in a different direction at this point. If he’s not going to let it go, you might as well play along. Somehow, picking dare seems so much safer than exposing your private thoughts and feelings to him.

“I dare you to kiss me again.”

Then again, maybe not.

“Again?” Okay, you’re stalling, but you’re also genuinely curious where the hell he’s pulling this imaginary kiss from. “Exactly when did I kiss you before?”

He waves it off easily, like it’s nothing. “You wouldn’t remember. It was 1939.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, lips pursed. “Is this before or after I saved the world?”

He quiets, looking crestfallen all of a sudden, and you find yourself thinking you might actually get whiplash from these apparent mood swings.

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“That I saved the world?” You lick your lips nervously, suspecting a more profound meaning in his question, but not wanting to wanting to draw attention to it. Glassy eyes follow the movements of your tongue and you can’t help but shiver.

“That I might love you,” he clarifies, his voice so, so soft. And just like that, the very last shred of your self control vanishes into thin air. You find yourself giving into him at last, your hand cupping his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek. His sleepy eyes meet yours, and before you can second guess yourself, you’re leaning in.

His lips are dry and cracked, but still so pillowy soft and inviting as they press gently against your own. You linger there for a moment, and when you pull back, his eyes are shut. He somehow manages to look both euphoric and smug, and you’re powerless to resist pressing another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.

You stroke his hair as he falls into another blissful dream, hoping your whispered words will greet him there.

“I want to believe.”


End file.
